


morning tea and the result of forgetting to add fruit ash

by mingcat



Series: sakuatsu fluff week 2021 [6]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Accidents, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternative Universe - Kingdom, Bodyswap, Crack, Domestic Fluff, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Fantastic, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Fluff and Humor, Happy, Kings & Queens, Knights - Freeform, M/M, Potions, Potions Accident, Princes & Princesses, Romantic Fluff, Short & Sweet, Sweet, Swords & Sorcery, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, a day in the life, but he's a loveable brat, captain of the guard!omi, in every sense of the meaning, omi is great with swords, prince!tsumu, tsumu is kind of a brat, weird shit is a normal thing on the daily
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 04:28:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29603865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mingcat/pseuds/mingcat
Summary: Tardiness by seconds, foul tasting potions, annoying guards, midday sparring with an absolute devil, and sweet goodnights - just a regular day for the prince and his captain.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Series: sakuatsu fluff week 2021 [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2161527
Comments: 2
Kudos: 39
Collections: SakuAtsu Fluff Week 2021





	morning tea and the result of forgetting to add fruit ash

Dawn had just passed and Atsumu was already bathed and dressed; a deep red top with hints of gold, cream colored breeches that hugged his thighs just right and emphasized his curves, cotton gloves, and his usual pair of shining black walking boots that climbed up to his knees. All he had to do was put the intricately woven golden circlet that sat on his vanity and then he would be the very embodiment of beauty and royalty. He was gleaming, he was gorgeous; but above all that, he was sulky and impatient.

Why impatient, you ask? Well, because he was a prince. The crowned prince to be exact. And one should  _ never _ make the crowned prince wait. He had the right to be pouty, okay. He’s been sitting by his vanity and muttering gibberish at his reflection for the past 30 seconds and he was being made to  _ wait _ . Such action should be considered treason, betrayal, absolute exploitation of his time and kindness, utter misconduct to the highest possible degree-

There were two knocks on his door, a pause, and then another. Suddenly the reason for his sulking had already been forgiven.

He cleared his throat, fluffing his blonde bangs a little, making sure they looked as soft as they felt. “Enter.”

The creak of the door, the sound of metal wheels scraping slightly on the marble floor, and the voice of a fucking god. “Morning tea, your highness, to start the morning right.”

The prince saw the figure pushing the fancy looking cart carrying the fancier looking tea set in the corner of his eye through the mirror but he refused to look at him just yet. He huffed, crossing his arms and tilting his head in a snotty, bratty manner. “Start the morning right, ‘ya say? By ‘yer tardiness, I see no reason to even see to the rest of the morning, much less the rest of the day and evening.”

A chuckle echoed behind him, the sound growing as the man clad in a pristine black and gold uniform with the crowned prince’s signia on the clasps of his white cloak and embroidered on his chest pocket. His sword was strapped to his hip and swayed slightly with his every step, the gold carving glinted against the white scabbard, catching on sunlight. His breeches cinched wonderfully, highlighting his small waist. His own pair of boots reached only to his calf. His gloves pitch black compared to the prince’s off white, almost cream. At that point, the prince was questioning his sanity for depriving himself the pleasure of taking in all those details in full. But the amused curl of the figure’s wonderful, sinful, pink lips only made him scowl, huffing.

“Frowning so much would give you wrinkles much earlier, my prince.”

“Well, had a certain someone not made me  _ wait _ maybe I wouldn’t be risking my perfect face for folds and lines.”

A soft chuckle, hot air brushing right against his ear and making shivers crawl along his spine. “Darling, I would’ve come quicker had I not needed to wheel a cart for an excuse to simply enter your room.”

The prince turned his head the opposite way, his resolve nearly non-existent. “I was deprived of ‘yer company for 38 seconds because of ‘yer lame excuse.”

A gentle gloved hand caught his chin, bringing him back till he was looking into dark, obsidian eyes that shone with the gentle kiss of eternal moonlight. “Then shall we no longer waste time dilly-dallying and deprive ourselves no longer?”

Atsumu barely held back his smile when he surged forward to finally get his mandatory morning kisses from the other, his fingers threading through curly, raven locks as Kiyoomi, the captain of the crowned prince’s guard, cupped his cheek with one hand and held his waist with the other, finally holding the prince the way he wanted to be held. Loved, worshipped, and cherished. The two smiled into the kiss, unable to hold the pure joy and fondness they had for each other.

“Good morning, Omi,” Atsumu whispered sweetly.

Kiyoomi leaned in again to give him a fleeting peck, one that had the prince whining and chasing his lips. The raven chuckled softly.

“Good morning, my love.”

* * *

“My prince, your brother requests your presence in his residence,” a freckled courtier came running up to the prince’s riding party as they dismounted after a lovely morning hunt. Atsumu snorted, rolling his eyes as he handed the reins of his gorgeous white mare to Shoyo, one of the stable boys. The boy blushed as the prince patted his shoulder in gratitude.

“‘Samu doesn’t request, dear Tadashi. The scrub always demands. Of course, I don’t blame him. My presence  _ is _ something to be sought for-” he let out a squeak as a leather glove smacked his hip. He turned to pout at the raven who was giving him a reprimanding look. “Play nice. You’re scaring the poor boy.”

The blonde looked back and gave the boy a smile when he noticed the nervous look he had on his face and how his hands kept on twitching. “Sorry, kid. ‘Twas a joke. I’mma head up in a minute, thanks.”

The courtier bowed a bit too low and scurried away, his ears noticeably red at the tips. The prince turned back to his captain with wide eyes and an innocent smile. “‘Ya got anything to do, Omi-kun?”

“Just newbie training, but Kuroo can manage them well enough.”

The mentioned man with messy hair and unruly bangs snorted, leaning against his horse with his arms crossed. “Sure, leave the hard work to me while you go off and make out with your little princeling or whatever,” the drawl was both annoyed and teasing.

The raven raised a brow. “I’m giving you free reign to try all of your terrible flirting tactics on that blonde boy you’re infatuated with and you really want to pass this opportunity down?”

That had the man moving on his feet, gathering the rest of the guards and herding them away. “Time to whip some brats into shape, men! The 11th division is mine, you hear?”

The two watched them grow smaller in the distance before they began their own trip to the western wing of the main palace. Osamu, after turning down the offer to co-rule the kingdom with his twin brother, began to fully devote himself to the practice of sorcery and the dark arts. Atsumu had thrown a tantrum when he found out, the grounds of the southeastern garden still held the marks and dents left by it. It took a long while to settle the two of them. Heck, Kiyoomi had to fetch the Queen since Atsumu wasn't listening to him. It was sure an amusing sight after the whole fiasco; the two princes, banged up and dirty, kneeling in the middle of the garden while holding hands as their mother watched on. The blonde got over it soon after, even going as far as getting his brother all the books and materials he could find on his trips to other kingdoms. Osamu in turn was one of the crowned prince's advisors.

Atsumu knocked on the door leading to the brunette's work station, waiting for the sign of permission before he pushed the wooden door open as he stepped into a room filled with vials and pots and all sorts of containers. Books lined the far wall, some barely even on the shelves. Smoke of all colors rose from multiple cauldrons. The way Osamu stood in the middle of it all, with his apron and stained clothes, made him look like a mad scientist instead of a sorcerer.

"What'cha cook up now, scrub?" Was all the greeting Atsumu gave the other as Kiyoomi took station by the door. Osamu gave him a lazy smile. "Somethin' 'yer gonna test out for me."

The blonde scowled, crossing his arms as he leaned against one of the many tables. "Stop making me 'yer gods damned lab rat. If I die 'cause of one of 'yer potions then 'ya better get ready to rule and put up with my annoying ghost."

"If 'ya die 'cause of one of my potions, trust me, it'd be intentional. Plus, I already put up with 'yer ass, a floating spirit ain't nothing."

"Really feelin' the love, scrub."

"Yeah, now drink up." He tossed a slightly translucent vial of purple liquid to the blonde, the prince easily catching it. Uncorking the bottle, Atsumu sniffed it, making a weird face as he did.

"Smells sweet."

"Unlike 'ya."

The blonde glared up at the brunette before going back to perusing the bottle. "What is this, anyway?"

"An attempt at a transformation potion."

"And what exactly am I gonna transform into?"

"Not sure, but the thing only lasts half a day so, 'ya know. Worst comes to worst, 'ya get a free day off." He shrugged.

The blonde let out a breath. Giving a quick glance to his captain who had his usual furrowed brow look whenever they found themselves in that exact scenario, which was too many times since Osamu refused to find an assistant, but the captain didn’t do anything to stop him. Eyeing the purple liquid once last time, Atsumu downed it.

And started coughing. Apparently the sweet fragrance didn’t compliment the foul taste of it.

“‘ _ Ya fuckin _ -” he felt bile rise up his throat, barely managing to keep it down. “It tastes like bloody  _ shit _ ‘ya assfuck!”

Osamu glanced around his work station and made a sound. “Oh, so that’s why I had an extra batch of pomegranate dust.”

Atsumu glared at him, nearly doubled over as he gripped a nearby chair.

“Atsu, are you oka-” the moment Kiyoomi touched him, they both felt a sharp zap of electricity deep in their skin. The two stumbled away, bleary blinking the black spots away, wincing at the sudden headache they had. Once the prince got his bearings to look around, only to be met with the wide eyes of both his brother and, well - himself.

“Uh, ‘Samu, is this thing like a clone potio-?” he blinked. “Hold up, why do I sound like this? This is Omi’s voice,” he trailed off, staring at himself. But it wasn’t himself, and his voice…

“Omi?”

The blonde blinked, looking down at himself before rubbing a hand down his face. He turned to the brunette who seemed to be stuck between wanting to laugh or cry or both. “You said half a day, right? So we’ll be fine by dawn?”

The brunette nodded. Another sigh from the blonde before he was looking back at his lover in his skin. “Looks like it’s gonna be a long day, then.”

And a long day it was. At first, Atsumu wanted to try and act as each other since they could, but the moment Atsumu smiled and opened his mouth everyone already knew. Which was why he was still pouting as he watched Kiyoomi facilitate drills in his body. At least the guards’ and guards-in-training’s reaction had been worth it. Kuroo stood next to him as he lounged on a bench, a practice sword in hand.

“It’s really weird,” he said.

Atsumu rolled his eyes, sticking his tongue out at the guard. Kuroo’s eyes grew wider. “Yep, definitely weird.”

Suna, another guard and a childhood friend of the prince, snorted, grinning. “Never in my life did I think I’d get to see ‘Tsumu actually scare a person with a glare.”

“Never did I think I’d get to see Sakusa whine and fucking  _ pout _ .” Daichi added as he joined the little group around the prince.

“Shouldn’t ‘ya’ll be training or something?” Atsumu snarked, crossing his arms as he laid back on the bench, watching the clouds race languidly across the blue canvas.

“Oh shit, ‘yer accent and Sakusa’s voice is just,” Suna began to chuckle.

“Kiyo’s been cursing every time he’d accidentally speak in dialect, it’s hilarious.” Daichi added.

“Oi,” the captain called, having heard the teasing remarks, “if you asshats have time to annoy the prince then you have time to spar with me. Ain’t that right?”

Everyone paled at the comment, the guards in question even more. Kiyoomi’s swordsmanship and technique was well known throughout the entire kingdom, even beyond it, which meant sparring with him even if for practice only meant absolute hell. And the man knew it, his deadly, murderous grin an absurd sight on Atsumu’s face.

The prince hummed. “That was hot.”

The captain raised a brow at him, shady grin turning a little too sultry that the guards and passing servants had to look away.

“You’ve reached a whole new level of narcissism, princeling.”

Atsumu smiled, winking. “Only for you, captain.”

* * *

Later in the evening as the two begin to settle in the prince’s bedchamber after Atsumu sneaked in whilst in Kiyoomi’s body, the prince wrapped himself around the other. Kiyoomi raised an amused brow, sweetly playing with curly raven locks. “You’re usually the little spoon.”

The prince hummed, eyes fluttering at the gentle caresses. “I wanna wake up in ‘yer arms, though.”

A soft chuckle and a quick peck on his lips. “Alright, then.”

Atsumu smiled, pulling the other tighter and sighing as he closed his eyes. “G’night, Omi.”

“Happy dreams, my love.”


End file.
